Chapter Text
Stiles Stilinski is 23.
He's fresh out of college. His cheeks still turn red at the sight of some people, and he still styles his hair the same way he had in high school. He still looks exactly the same, just an inch taller since those days. He still makes stupid Star Wars references and wolf jokes, and he still stays in touch with a certain strawberry blonde. He has a Masters degree in criminal law and justice, even though he has majored in forensics. He's just so incredibly smart. He's got these honey brown eyes and a smile that can light up the room. He's a bit clumsy and loud, but he is human.
Derek Hale is 28.
He's unemployed with life savings, and not college educated, but smart enough to go to the Ivies if he wanted to. He's got this brooding grim look that would murder anyone in a second, but a heart of gold for those who'll listen. His hair was jet black, his eyes ocean blue. His fangs haven't been coated with a tangy red boiling color since he's seen Scott McCall, but he's a werewolf.
Derek has no one.
Stiles was loved by everyone.
Doesn't it just make sense that a special doe-eyed cutie tried to bring in some happiness into the sourwolf's life? And of course, one thing lead to another, one yes lead to another yes. And everything clicked the day they got married.
The reception was beautiful. It was a reserved area with flowers that could only come from a Disney movie. It was a small get-together laced with white everywhere that gave you and outdoorsy modern feel. Only their closest loved ones attended, and when Derek's invitee list was small, Stiles had comforted him in times of grievance. A few names they hadn't seen in years popped up; Lydia Martin, Scott McCall, Malia Tate, Liam Dunbar, Mason Hewitt, Melissa McCall, Noah Stilinski, Alan Deaton, Natalie Martin.
What's sad is that they haven't made contact with some of these people in 5 years, ever since high school, ever since Beacon Hills decided to throw up supernatural baddies. But Stiles had made sure to call his dad a few times a week, just to make sure he was okay. Noah Stilinski was still serving his years at the sheriff's department while Stiles keeps joking about retirement. And of course, he always talked to Scott. Best friends whenever am I right? They had even invited Peter Hale, but he hadn't showed. But Stiles didn't let it ruin Derek's day, because everyone else had loved him and fully supported the two. It was the best day of their lives.
Derek had vowed to keep Stiles safe, and to love him forever and always, and to never leave his side, in sickness or death.
Stiles had vowed to keep Derek happy and pure, to keep him into a loving human being and restrain from his alpha rages, and to never leave his side, in sickness or death.
"Do you love me?" Stiles had asked the night before the wedding, where he had looked so genuine, so beautiful.
"I do." Derek truthfully said.
They repeated it the next day in bliss.
It's been only a few months now, 3 months and 24 days to be exact. Not that Stiles was counting, but he was. They were living in a suburban apartment shortly outside of Los Angeles. The two had agreed to not live in Beacon Hills anymore, because we all knew how that would end. They spent their days happily humming to the sound of the bustling cars sending vibrations up and through the house, shaking the plants that have resided by the window sill. It was a tidy studio, small, but more than enough space the couple needed.
Derek was in the kitchen when Stiles got up that Saturday. Everything had seemed so normal, you couldn't picture what would happen later.
"Morning Der," Stiles groggily said after coming out when he changed into black dress pants and a lavender dress shirt with a tie that looked a little too dressed up for his own taste.
"Good Morning." Derek had already laid out two cups of coffee and some freshly baked cinnamon rolls that had an aroma that just lingered around the room. Bless. Derek smiled at his get-up, admitting in his head that he looked amazing.
Stiles gave him a small kiss, smiling before they both sat down across from each other and had a lovely breakfast.
Derek looked across at Stiles, fishhooks pulled on the corners of his mouth to reveal his pristine grin. "You look nice." He said softly.
"What- do I usually not look nice?" Stiles joked, taking a bite out of the baked good.
Derek chuckled, "You look extremely nice today. Handsome."
Stiles blushed, "I've got a job interview at UCLA today."
Derek smiled, "really?" Stiles nodded.
"Wwwwwwhich I'm gonna be late to if I don't get going," Stiles mumbled behind some stuffed cinnamon rolls in his mouth and fumbled with his keys in his pocket. His black tie swung around as he struggled to get it secure against his extravagant getup. Stiles anxiously toyed around with it, clearly stressing out about the event. "Oh man." Stiles whispered, looking at the clock. Derek pulled him closer to him, catching a scent of anxiety and a rapid heart rate.
"Hey- hey look at me. Stiles- you're gonna do fine, and they're gonna love you and you're gonna be amazing." Derek held him close before going to fix and secure his tie neatly, he held his hand as he squeezed it.
Stiles took a deep inhale to calm his nerves. "okay.." He pulled at the tie, finding it quite nicer now that Derek has fixed it. "But what if they don't love me? Then what- find another job? I've been after this for like ten months."
"I'll still love you." Derek glared into his honey-brown eyes again.
Stiles smirked, "I guess that's a better deal."
Derek grabbed Stiles' coat and his briefcase, handing it to him. Just at the door, Stiles said, "I love you," but Derek had stopped him before leaving.
"Take it easy- please, and don't go too fast! If you're late, then you're late. I want you home tonight. Alive. Call me when you get there." Derek gently cautioned him as courteous as he could.
"I'll be fine baby," Stiles smiled, giving him another goodbye kiss and disappearing to his car. Derek watched him leave, noticing Stiles' unique choice of footwear.
Black converse sneakers with dress attire?
Okay then.
"I knew he caved," Derek thought, smiling about his nerd. Derek went on to clean up to try to ease his worries. He thought of sending texts just to check up on Stiles, but what if he checked while he was on the road? He decided against it and gave his husband his space.
Stiles nervously looked in the rear view mirror, he still looked good, but a little babyish. He was starting to wonder if he was ever gonna start looking older, because currently he still looked like a high schooler. Stiles took another deep breath, lacing his fingers on the driver's wheel and started the engine.
It takes twenty minutes to get to UCLA. Stiles, after graduating with almost an exact 5.0 GPA, had decided he wanted to go for a Criminal Profiler job opportunity. Derek knew Stiles would want to follow in the footsteps of his father, but he preferred something less- gruesome and scary. After the hell Stiles went through in high school, Derek only wanted to cherish him and keep his babe safe. Plus, after all those years on working on cases with the sheriff, Stiles must've gotten bored, thus he decided to go on a different adventure. It was just a bonus that he happened to have been pretty damn good at profiling too.
Stiles fidgeted around with something on the driver's wheel on his blues Jeep as he drove on the highway. It was 8 in the morning, why the hell was it so empty? The fog cleared in as Stiles felt something horrible, fumbling with the parts of his broken down car. "Damn it." He whispered, thinking back to Derek's last recall.
"Take the camaro." He grumbled.
"I'm taking the Jeep Derek." Stiles protested.
"That thing is gonna get you stuck in the middle of the street. The camaro's safer. Hell, I'll just buy you a new car if you don't want mine!" Derek profusely debated this, in which it became a heated dinner table conversation every now and then.
"Dude. I'm not getting rid of my car."
"Stiles! If you don't get rid of the car, it's gonna get rid of you by killing you!"
Stiles snapped out of it, the previous hours of conversation dedicated to it. Not enough duct tape can save this hell concubine, and Stiles was starting to think so too. Stiles used his free hand to reach down as far below the wheel as he could to see what was going on before deciding to pull over.
"Jesus." Stiles cursed, he was gonna be at least twenty minutes late at this rate. He flipped up the hood to find that one of the engine tanks' connections were loose. Oh thank god, all he needed was to tighten it up. Stiles went digging in his trunk for his tools and pulled out a wrench. The metal reflected his fingers that appeared to be shaking in nervousness. He quickly screwed it in extremely tight, and then wound it in heavy duty duct tape as a backpack plan before returning his hardware to the back and getting into the car again. He decided to text Derek to make sure he's not freaking out.
Had some car trouble again. I'm late, but okay. I'll call when I get there. Promise. -Stiles.
The fog seemed to start getting worse as Stiles looked out from the front car window. He sprayed the windshield wipers when he thought it was just his eyes deceiving him, but no, thick clouds engulfed the sky. Bad timing. The young man buckled up before slowly and cautiously pulling onto the highway again, carefully trying to refrain from hitting more than forty miles an hour. Stiles started to get worried with the thick smog, but then there was a clearing in the air, a light. He couldn't tell what it was, but it was light coming towards him rapidly as it grew bigger and bigger, brighter and brighter and before Stiles could get his hands to swerve the steering wheel-
Boom.
An instant crash. Slowly, then all at once.
And in that split moment before, Stiles swore at his own idiocy.
It was a wrong-way driver.
The collision had been full on, the front of the other Toyota had completely smashed through the front of the broken Jeep. The wheels swerved, Stiles was thrashed around the metal death box and then the inevitable worse happened.
The car came to a breaking halt, sending the left side of the Jeep tumbling over itself as the car rolled over onto its side, then crashed down onto its roof.
Glass flew everywhere, broken car bits flew within hundreds of feet in radius. Pieces of the car's bumper laid in the side of the road as reflective lights glistened all shattered-like. There was a smoking smell from the jeep's burned out engine, and the two cars had looked like they were in a demolition derby. Man, they were destroyed.
Stiles had instantly blacked out. The airbags inflated themselves, but they were now covered in blood, as was the rest of him. Glass pieces had embedded themself into his skin, a long thin line of red blood ran underneath his eye. A sharp blade had pierced him in the shoulder and another in the chest. A dark crimson color flooded underneath his fancy dress attire. Rips and bruises along his skin discolored it, and he had slammed his head against the wheel and then it was thrown back against the metal on impact. There was blood everywhere .
Stiles slowly opened his eyes only to find himself in the worst possible scenario. He couldn't turn around to see what had happened, all he wanted to do was scream and scream and scream. He couldn't feel anything as if he were paralyzed. As if the pain were too much to humanly bare and his body was shutting down. Stiles tried resisting the betrayal of his drooping eyelids, but he was finding it impossible to breathe. It was like his lungs were being filled with blood as he saw a small drop of the red color drip from his mouth in a blur.
I'mdeadimdeadimdeadimdeadimdeadimdead.
It was all he could think of, as he laid there, too immobilized in his own pain, and too discombobulated to do anything about it. He didn't even have enough energy to fight for air as he felt his throat constricting with flowing blood. He head a head blood rush, then realized he was freaking upside down in the car. His body was bent and folded underneath the constricted metal as the blood from his gash under his eyes slowly dropped and dropped onto his bloody lips. Panic set in when he became conscious of what was actually happening. He felt his lungs concave, he couldn't breathe. A large metal rod that came apart from the car had bashed his arm, trapping it underneath a pile of scrap. He was in so much pain that he went numb, and everything blurred into one. He couldn't bare to look at himself in the cracked mirror upside down, there was so much blood Stiles gave in, allowing his eye lids to drop as darkness creeped in with scarce, raspy breaths. He survived so fucking much only to leave this god damn world like this.
It was time that Derek started to get worried. Stiles promised to call him, he promised to let him know if he was okay. And now, Derek had a tinge of a bad taste in his mouth and he felt a jolt in his veins. Maybe he just forgot. Derek started to get beyond worried.
It must have been ten minutes of silence that Stiles endured. He had been trying to reach his phone, fighting against every single drop of the boiling pain, of the death nearing him. Finally, he had finally touched the phone, letting a shudder of remorse out. Come on, come on. He just needed to press Derek's contact, he was so close.
So close.
His finger hit the call button and Derek's phone was dialed before Stiles threw his head back, trying to breathe.
"Stiles? Oh thank god I was getting so worried that you didn't call, I thought something happened!" Derek answered immediately, his nerves were on edge.
The phone line was silent on the other side.
"Stiles? Are you okay? What's going on?" Derek frantically answered.
He heard a gurgling and a spit, it was the sputtering of blood drip from Stiles' lips as he tried to talk.
"Stiles! Stiles!"
The phone line went dead.
Derek immediately got up for his keys and found himself racing out of the house while trying to find out where Stiles was. He's just gotta go the same way to the drive for UCLA right? Derek drove in anger and frustration, trying to pick up a scent but failed to do so in his cammaro. He looked in the rear view mirror, tears were welling up in his eyes. Derek tried ringing him again, no answer. He cursed as he got onto the highway and suddenly he picked up a scent, it smelled of musk, and cinnamon like it's from an Old Spice deodorant, and a bit of his own scent. It was Stiles. Derek tried to watch his speed as he drove by but was quickly stopped by a road block. If the highway had been blocked off, then how did Stiles manage to get far? The man stepped out the car and sought out for him, feeling a tear drop when no one answered back. Derek looked around, seeing no sight of a blue Jeep, and the scent wasn't strong still. He decided to return to his car and go around onto the freeway. That's when Derek's heart started to cave in to his ribcage. He felt it- he felt the strife being felt about a few miles out. It only took him some odd minutes to come upon a hint of blue off the side of the road, another empty car was destroyed on the middle of the freeway. The scent got stronger and stronger as Derek prayed and prayed for it to not be Stiles as he drove closer, but oh my god it just kept getting stronger and more lustful and it smelled of fresh blood and-
"No, no, no, no, no, no," Derek whispered cold under his breath as it became louder as he approached the vehicle when he got out of his car. "No, no, no! Oh my god-" Derek laid his eyes open the wreckage that looked like death had just played a game with.
"Oh my god, oh my god." Derek got as close as he could, his nose scrunched as the chaotic fumes clashed with the bodily fluids. Stiles was bloodied and cut to death. "Stiles! Stiles!" Derek yelled out through the broken window next to Stiles. He listened in to hear a slight heartbeat, it was faint- but it was there. "Stiles! Open your eyes baby, come on god damnit!" Derek screamed again, reaching in through the space and grabbed Stiles' hand.
It was so cold.
Blackened veins crawled up Derek's arm rapidly, causing Derek to writhe in pain but outlasted it long enough for his husband to come to. Stiles opened his groggy eyes, barely any energy left. Derek tried to assess the situation- the car was currently on its roof and could collapse on Stiles at any given moment, his arm was trapped under some fallen metal, and he had glass shards embedded that pierced his skin. Oh yeah- and there's freaking blood everywhere. Stiles could only open his eyes, he couldn't speak, he could just look ahead and try to at least breathe. The entire world was fuzzy and upside down. "Stiles? Stiles can you hear me?" Derek professed, as he pulled out his claws when he got no reply. Derek gathered all his strength and pulled at what was left of the metal scraps that made up the door, ripping it off its hinges. He then clawed away at the seat belt, slowly fraying it until it split into two. "Stiles- hey, hey keep your eyes open okay baby?" Derek tried to calmly say. If he leaves Stiles in there, he could die from the obstruction on his body or from the car. If he takes him out, he will feel more pain but likely won't die. Derek made the decision as he looked at Stiles' body that fell limp at the release of the belt, and then Derek slowly and carefully pulled his body out of the car as Stiles winced and groans slightly.
"Stiles, Stiles come one stay with me please- breathe, just focus on breathing," Derek said.
"d-d-Der... d-d-d..-erek," Stiles stuttered, his lips were tinged with blood.
"I'm here baby, I'm here, I'm gonna get you help okay? All you have to do is stay awake." Derek pleaded, as he pulled Stiles' body in between his legs and rested his head on Derek's chest. "Stiles baby don't close your eyes." He didn't want to cry, Derek had to stay strong. He swiped his thumb away at blood stains that washed onto his chin, and then swiped again at the drip of it underneath his eye. Derek immediately phoned 911.
"Hello? 911, what's your emergency," He heard a woman say.
"There was a crash- my husband- he's dying, the car rolled over onto the side of the road and he's badly hurt and-"
"Okay, sir, calm down, can you tell me exactly where you are?" The speaker interuppted him.
"It's the freeway off exit 38 on Palmerdale Route."
"Sir that's been closed off for a few hours now."
"No, no it's one the freeway, right off it." Derek explained timidly.
"Okay Sir, we are sending emergency services on your way." Before the woman could even finish, Derek hung up and took his attention to Stiles. He unbuttoned his lavender dress shirt, and revealed the bloody mess and bruises left. He slightly gasped, noticing Stiles' heart was starting to slow down. The skin on his bicep that had been pierced was starting to get severely red with the glass, and there was bruising on his lower abdomen. Derek placed one hand on his chest, and held Stiles' hand with the other and simultaneously drew out as much pain as he could tolerate.
"Der-... you ha- you have to... To take- take.. It out." Stiles struggled to say in one sentence as he referred to the glass. That was it, he could feel his lungs deflating inside him when he started to have to breathe shallowly.
Stiles started to feel like he was dying.
"If I take it out you'll bleed to death," Derek warned, as he tried to take in as much pain as he could once again, wincing with the flood of adrenaline and tingling sensations in his body.
"Pl.. plea-please.. T-t-t-take it out-" Stiles tried to say.
"Stiles you have to leave it in there! You'll die if I take it out." Derek cautioned again, tilting Stiles' head upwards again.
It was all shock and pain and jolts and tears and blood oozing out from his body. But it was coming to the point where pain was replaced with a numbness, and his cries were replaced with tremors and bliss took over his fear of dying. It was like the calm before the storm, where everything just seems so peaceful and so gentle before a monster hits. And just as he couldn't hold on, ambulances pull on closer to him, Stiles couldn't hold out any longer. He succumbed to his fatigue and dizziness as he allowed darkness to creep in from the corner of his eyes.
"Stiles, Stiles! They're here, don't stop please! Please wake up Stiles! Wake up Stiles baby! Derek started yelling for the paramedics to help him as they rushed to the wreckage. Derek could barely hear a heartbeat. All he could do was w. It was a bloodshow. Derek started losing it, tears streaming down his face as a man had to pull him away.
"You have to help him! He's dying!" Derek said hysterically.
"Sir- we're doing all we can," He reassured him and took a towel to Derek's hand and wiped Stiles' blood off his palms. Glass was still embedded into his skin but he was still bleeding out as they examined his blood painted body. The EMTs rested him, giving him a surplus of attention when they realized he wasn't breathing. Multiple hands were on him at a time, attempting to rid of the excess glass fibers without worsening his condition. They cleaned up the glass that could easily have been pulled out.
"He's not breathing. We gotta go fast, he's bleeding out fast." Derek heard one of them say.
Derek had missed much of what happened because of an abundant amount of paramedics trying to help himself and find out what happened. All he saw was one putting a neck brace around Stiles as soon as they got an oxygen mask tightly strapped and an IV started. Derek heard them curse because they couldn't administer any drugs until they were at the hospital, so they agreed to get him airlifted.
Stiles' eyes groggily opened and blurred for a second.
"Mr. Stilinski, can you hear me?" The EMT said, but received no response as he closed his eyes again. Soon within a few minutes of touch and go, a helicopter had arrived as they loaded him on.
"Low blood pressure stats, blow to the head, foreign object impaction in upper torso, signs of severe concussion and nerve damage to the left arm, low heart rate and is drifting in and out of syncope. He's in critical condition- we gotta move quick before he goes into shock at the least." He heard the man ramble to another doctor as they went off.
Derek just prayed as they took him to the hospital in the ambulance, saying that he should be "evaluated." He definitely considered the bite, but at that rate it would've killed him.
All Derek could do now was hope.